It’s official – Lovely One is a BAD MOTHER
One hasn’t even been able to keep a sour dough starter alive. In fact things are so bad that One has given away the jar it (attempted) to live in and discarded the ‘self sufficiency’ idea completely.
One discovered that the growing of food would mean digging in the dirt and that is completely out of the question!
This will of course, mean actually leaving the confines of the Underground Lair from time to time to stock up on stuff. (shoes and bags etc)
But wait! – In the distant past when One was too busy to biff about Fortnums One had a nice little man deliver everything!
What am I thinking? Those days are gone. One is a fully paid up (well – benefitted up) member of the underclass.
Any road up, what with the sudden discovery of Parcel Force to collect and deliver One’s doings, One could theoretically slump on the sofa in the Underground Lair imagining One still lived in Hampstead village and drove round in a Bentley.
Or – One could get off One’s fat bottom and rejoin the human race. Well, One could, but One would come last.
Tis Thanksgiving today, so good wishes to all my American readers, I believe one or two of Papa’s lady friends still investigate One’s doings. Have a lovely time with friends and family and spare a teeny weeny thought for dear Lovely One, all alone in the dark and cold Underground Lair.
One shall very likely emerge into the spring sunlight in the New Year like a fascinating brightly coloured butterfly.
Or maybe one of those fat hairy moths – you decide Dears.